Pecan Pie, Cherry Cupcakes, and Other Deadly Objects
by RainyDaysAndGoodBooks
Summary: In which Merlin is a terrible baker, Arthur is not, and no one is especially prepared to have a dragon come swooping in. Lancelot should really know better than to invite Merlin's ex to save the day.
1. Chapter 1

Outside, the bakery looked warm and inviting. Richly colored leaves swirled down in front of large glass windows stuffed to the brim with an assortment of ostentatiously decorated pastries, and you could almost smell the scent of fresh cinnamon buns.

The few people on the cobbled streets glanced longingly at the little tables inside the cafe (complete with croissant themed tablecloths) and then hurried hastily on their ways as they spied the faded closed sign hanging lopsidedly on the shining brass handle.

Inside however, it was a different story.

"My God, Merlin. How many times do I have to tell you, step away from the batter. You know what, don't even look at it. You could probably ruin it just by thinking about it," a tanned man cried exasperatedly.

He was wearing a large white chef's hat that looked rather ridiculous with the haughty sort of way he carried himself. The few locks of straw blonde hair peeking out from under his chef hat were pointing every which way, and he had lime green icing smeared on his left cheekbone.

Merlin-who was quite used to being yelled at-was tempted to laugh. Unfortunately, he thought the man, Arthur, was probably right.

It was universally acknowledged that Merlin was possibly the worst baker to ever exist. He used unrefined, whole wheat flour in the fine macaroons, added baking powder to the vanilla almond crescent cookies, and (miraculously) forgot the eggs in the soufflé.

So what, you may ask, was Merlin doing in Pendragon's Piquant Pastries, quite arguably one of the best bakeries in the country? The answer was simple, for although Merlin could no better whip up a batch of surgery cookies or concoct even the simplest of frostings than the stray cat that lived in the shop next door, he could ice a cake like no other.

He could pipe icing smaller than humanly possible, balance sugar flowers on the bumpiest of cakes, and marzipan stone castles seemed to come to life when he made them. It was a wonder to even his fellow bakers because somehow, someway, none of them had ever actually seen Merlin ice a cake.

"I'm sure you'll find some way to ruin the batter on your own." Merlin replied, turning haughtily and marching out of the kitchen. At least he would have marched out of the kitchen if a chair hadn't suddenly jumped out in front of him and knocked him to the ground, sending his arms flailing just a bit too close to the bowl of batter.

The bowl soared into the air like a sparrow, arcing gracefully through the air before landing with a clang and splattering batter all over Merlin himself.

There were times to stay and fight and times to run, Merlin thought. This, was a time to run. So, Merlin ran.

Arthur still wasn't quite sure what had happened. One moment he had been standing beside Merlin whipping up new recipe he had been dying to try, the next the batter was all over Merlin and three hours of work was splattered on the floor in various shapes.

This was of course the exact moment that all of the other bakers decided to walk in.

"Why Arthur," one of them- Gwaine- cried, "What a surprise. You haven't even started baking and it's 6:03, what a shame, what a shame."

"I was making that new recipe Morgana sent us, the one that takes about three hours to create, when Mr. I-can't-even-walk-down-the-sidewalk-without-tripping waltzed in, upset the batter, and ran away!" Arthur was almost steaming with indignation.

"I don't know," said Gwaine mischievously, "But it looks to me as though there's no one else here."

Arther almost popped a blood vessel. "I'm not lying, he was just here!' he cried, but at that moment Merlin walked in the front door his clothes miraculously clean again and his hair batter-free, almost like magic.

"What?" Arthur said. "How- You-"

"Arthur!" Merlin cried. "Are you okay? You look quite upset."

In a fit of rage and confusion, Arthur stormed out of kitchen and violently began to set the chairs around the tables.

Merlin simply smirked at Lancelot who shook his head reprovingly.

"I hope he's not actually going crazy," said Perceval looking slightly worried.

"Oh, you know Arthur," Merlin said. "It's nothing to worry about." And then he had to turn away because he was about to burst out laughing.

"Oh!" Lancelot exclaimed. "Time to open the shop already."

They helped Arthur set up the rest of the chairs, each studiously avoiding his gaze, and then Arthur and Merlin headed back to the kitchen as everyone else began working.

"You need any help with those macaroons, Arthur?" Merlin asked.

"Humph," Arthur replied eloquently.

And that was when the trouble really started.

It wasn't until the first window shattered that Merlin and Arthur really noticed anything was wrong though.

They missed the pounds on the door as the dragon tried to enter, they missed the shrieks and shouts as everyone stampeded, they even missed the large thunk as the dragon's tail collided with a nearby sign.

Strangely enough when they heard the tinkle of breaking glass both flung their heads in the direction of the noise, stared gormlessly in the general direction for a split second, and then sprinted into the main section of the bakery.

What they found was pure chaos. The scones were all over the chairs, icing was smeared in the window, and cookies rolled across the floor as though they were bowling balls. Leon was desperately attempting to stem the flow of milk pouring from the fridge, Lancelot was catching vases as they slid off the tables, and Percival was nowhere to be seen.

"What happened?" Arthur asked in shock.

"A great big dragon zoomed in, stole your prize pecan pie and zoomed out. I just about had a heart attack." Leon was panting heavily.

"My pecan pie?" Arther looked heartbroken.

"Wow a dragon. No way! What a . . . surprise! Who could have guessed?" Merlin laughed nervously and then wished he hadn't because it made Lancelot narrow his eyes suspiciously.

"A dragon!" Gwaine looked positively gleeful. "Now everyone will want to shop here!"

"No Gwaine," Arthur wailed. "We're done for. No one will ever come here ever again."

"There, there" said Lancelot tentatively patting Arthur's shoulder. "We'll just put up some new defenses."

"Metal spikes! Cannons! A moat!" Gwaine looked far too excited.

"I don't know," Merlin twirled a finger around his midnight blue kerchief. "I guess . . . as long as the spikes aren't too pointy."

"What is the point of non-pointy spike!" Gwaine, who had hopped onto a large wooden chair to better explain his plan, looked heartbroken.

Feeling slightly overwhelmed, Lancelot sat down to think of a reasonable plan, one that wouldn't involve Percival getting impaled by a not-too-pointy-but-still-pointy spike. The answer came to him suddenly. A business card he had received at some weird fair he had gone to to keep Merlin company.

 _Mordred Hakleton_

 _Magical Creature Catcher_

 _Occasional Pie Baker_

If there was anyone to call Lancelot thought, surely it would be this stranger and within moments he had dialed the number on the back. The man that answered it was cordial if a bit quiet and Lancelot ended the call feeling quite a bit better.

He even let Gwaine explain his plans for a three story cake for the fifth time.

Not long after Gwaine finished explaining what exactly would be in the 24th layer of cake, Lancelot looked up to see a curly haired man holding a large briefcase push open the glass door sending the bell swinging.

"Er hello," the curly haired man said, shuffling his feet slightly. "I'm-I'm Modred. You can probably guess that I don't get a lot of business so, er-nice to meet you."

"Lancelot," he replied stepping forward to shake Modred's pale hand.

"So," Mordred gave a nervous smile, "You called about a dragon?"

"A great big one!" Gwaine shouted, finally hopping down from his chair. "It had a tail like a sea serpent and it whooshed in like this" he mimed the dragons movements quite badly, "and then out, like this" he flapped his arms so wildly that Leon had to duck quickly.

"Right," Mordred looked serious. "And what color was this dragon?"

Lancelot opened his mouth to answer before Gwaine could say something ridiculous, but he never got the chance because at that point Merlin walked in from the back, took one look at Mordred, turned a nasty shade of green, and cried, most intelligently, "Mordred?"

Mordred, for his part had began rapidly fixing his hair, and in a matter of seconds had taken off his furry brown coat and shoved it into his suitcase. "M-Merlin!"

"You two already know each other? Brilliant!" Gwaine looked delighted.

Lancelot did not look delighted. He did not feel delighted either. He wanted to scream. Because if this was the Druid Merlin was always ranting about . . . well, they were in for a ride.

"I thought," Merlin was advancing on Mordred quite quickly, "that I told you I never wanted to see you again!"

Mordred squeaked.

Feeling slightly guilty Lancelot stepped in between them. "Merlin," he sighed, "I invited him. He's going to help get rid of the dragon."

"No!" Merlin cried. "You don't understand! I already have a plan," he glanced pointedly at Gwaine. "I can't explain how, but we don't need Mordred. Not even a little."

"Let's discuss this outside then." Lancelot gave Melin a gentle shove through the door, and they made their way to a large beech tree with leaves of orange and yellow.

"Ok," Merlin said. "I don't actually have a plan. But I will. And we can't have Mordred here! He tried to kill Arthur!"

"Look, I know things ended badly between you but you can't keep saying he tried to kill Arthur. He didn't." Lancelot blinked as a bright orange leaf fell directly on Merlin's head.

"Well you explain why Arthur fell down five stories of stair the only time I left him and Mordred together. And, why he choked on that ice cream Mordred brought as a 'get-well present' And why he had an allergic reaction to the flowers Mordred bought him as an 'apology present' for him almost choking and dying!" Merlin huffed, snatching the leaf out of his hair.

"Alright," said Lancelot. "There were some unfortunate accidents. That's it. And . . . I'm pretty sure Mordred still has feelings for you."

"What does that have to do with anything!" Merlin spluttered. "I'd never date a murderer."

"Good thing Mordred's not a murderer then," Lancelot said, and then he spun on his heel and headed to the break room to mope about Gwen.

"So, Gwaine," Mordred said rocking back and forth slightly on the balls of his feet. "Tell me your plans for thwarting the dragon."

Behind Gwaine, Percival shook his head rapidly.

Unfortunately, it was already too late for poor Mordred.

Three hours later Gwaine was shoved unceremoniously out the door by a harried looking Lancelot who seemed to have a spot of powdered sugar in the shape of a hand on his left cheek and who was missing of one of his shoes.

"But Lancelot!" Gwaine cried. "I haven't even gotten to the moat part yet! Don't be a meanie-butt."

"No!" Lancelot shouted. "No! I will be a meanie-butt if I like. You don't know what I had to do in order to drag Arthur out of the kitchen or what it took to get Percival to stop trying to tape the window together. I don't know why you guys can't seem to grasp that you can come back tomorrow! Leave. Just leave!"

Mumbling about grumpy pants, Gwaine began motorcycling home, pausing only briefly to stick his tongue out at Lancelot.

With a long sigh, Lancelot turned back to talk to Mordred and end this once and for all.

There was just one problem: Mordred had vanished.

"God dammit!" he shouted. It was going on record. This was the second worst day of his entire life. No doubts about it.

Lancelot had just turned to stride angrily into the kitchen for a bit of chocolate when he tripped and fell face-first onto the tile.

As he did so he heard a most Mordred like squeak. " Er what time is it?" Modred asked as he slowly sat up and rubbed his eyes.

"Why were you laying on the floor waiting for me to trip over you?" Lancelot narrowed his eyes. He was quite good at narrowing his eyes, and he couldn't deny that it was nice to have someone other than Merlin to narrow them at.

"W-what?" Modred stuttered.

Lancelot narrowed his eyes even further.

"I was just listening to Gwaine's suggestions! There were a lot of them so I got rather sleepy and then the floor started to look pretty comfy so I laid down and I guess I was sleeping until you kicked me."

"I did not kick you." Lancelot said trying to remain calm. Merlin had been right about this guy. He probably killed butterflies for fun. "But," Lancelot smiled in a way he hoped would be reassuring but really just ended up giving Mordred nightmares, "let's talk about how to get rid of the dragon."

"Right," Mordred said. "There's just one small problem with that."

Lancelot turned purple.

"The problem is pretty simple, small, solvable-" Mordred began.

"Please," Lancelot interrupted. "Just tell me what's wrong."

"So," Mordred grimaced. "You know how the government just banned dancing daisies? Well, I need fourteen of those."

It was official, Lancelot had changed his mind. This was the first worst day ever.

 **Thanks for reading! I would totally love it if you reviewed! I also just have to say so you know when authors are like "I have no idea how such and such happened"? Well, I always was a bit skeptical. Not anymore. I'm sorry for doubting anyone! I have no idea how Mordred and Merlin ended up being exes. No idea. Oh well.**


	2. Chapter 2

"You want me to sneak into where?" Merlin's voice had reached an alarming pitch.

"Look," Lancelot tried to sound reasonable. "We've got to deal with this dragon."

At the word dragon Merlin flinched, sending the fetching ruby red kerchief he was wearing askew.

Lancelot narrowed his eyes. "I'd almost forgotten about your fishy behavior. Are you the reason we just happened to have a dragon fly into our bakery?"

Merlin looked at the floor.

"Oh my god!" Lancelot felt the blood rising to his cheeks, and he did 10 deep breaths. By the time he had opened his eyes, Merlin had vanished.

"MERLIN!" he cried, feeling remarkably like Arthur.

"Coming, coming, just had to use the loo." In a flash of gold Merlin had appeared back at Lancelot's side.

"You can teleport!" Lancelot felt suddenly gleeful.

"Yes, but not very well. Not very well at all."

"Nonsense. Meet me at Elana's Unusual Brews tomorrow morning, _promptly_ at 7:15, and we'll solve this dragon problem!" Usually Lancelot's luck was downright terrible, but it seemed like the tides were finally turning in his direction. Who knew Merlin could teleport? What a wonderful discovery!

So the thing was that when Merlin said he could teleport but "not very well" he was actually telling the truth and not, as Lancelot suspected, trying to be lazy.

It was too bad that Lancelot hadn't known that before, if he had, he wouldn't have even bothered coming. As it was, he showed up bright and early at Merlin's favorite coffee shop, along with his trusty red backpack chock full of apples, granola bars, and a couple heavy lead pipes just in case.

Mordred was already there looking small in a coat so large that it almost completely swallowed his hands. Lancelot had to bite his lip to refrain from asking if he could roll up Mordred's sleeves.

"So Mordred have you been here before?" Lancelot asked.

"Er yes," Modred said looking as though he were trying very hard to forget the last time he'd been there.

Lancelot persisted anyway. "Have you tried their cilantro scones then?" They were nowhere near as good as any of the scones Lancelot made, but they weren't terrible.

"No, no I have not." Modred pulled his sleeves down even further.

"Right," Lancelot said, "Well, I have." And then he began staring very hard at the paintings on the wall. There was a rather fetching one of an octopus combing seaweed out of its tentacles or was it a cat tangled up in a green scarf? Lancelot wasn't sure which it was, but he was sure that he would positively murder Merlin when he finally showed up. Well, he wouldn't murder him exactly, maybe he would just give him the apple with the mushy spot. That would show him!

It was another fifteen minutes before Merlin arrived and by that time Lancelot wholly considered himself an art connoisseur and Mordred-well, Lancelot wasn't quite sure what Modred had been doing, but he was still there.

The first thing Merlin said was not "Sorry I'm late. Thank you Lancelot, you magnificent human, for waiting so long. I'll make it up to you. Here's that copy of _The Expert Guide to Gardening_ you wanted." No, the first thing that Merlin said was, "Why is _he_ here? I'm not teleporting _him_!"

Lancelot sighed.

It took another fifteen minutes and four chocolate croissants before they were finally on their way.

"So," Lancelot said, "Let's go over it one more time. All we need to do is teleport to Prowling Lion Trailhead in the forest of Dunkeroo. There should be plenty of dancing daisies there."

Modred nodded sending his curls bouncing while Merlin, ever polite, simply rolled his eyes.

"You sound like Gaius, Lancelot," Merlin said huffily. Then he grabbed Lancelot, quite abruptly, and teleported the three of them away.

The first thing Lancelot saw, once the world had stopped spinning, was a large stack of sweaters. They were cozy looking sweaters, the color of mustard, but they certainly did not belong in a forest

"Right," Lancelot heard Merlin say. "This can sometimes happen."

Lancelot felt a headache coming on. They were not in the forest of Dunkeroo. They were not in a forest at all. In fact, Lancelot was fairly certain they were in a department store.

Brightly dressed people meandered around. Lancelot couldn't help noticing that one of them looked an awful lot like Gwen, they even had that lovely pink skirt that Gwen was always wearing and- oh my god it was Gwen! Lancelot ducked behind a shelf of tank tops. He was wearing a shirt that had a hole in it. A hole! He wasn't prepared to see Gwen!

"Merlin." It was Arthur that had just spoken. So clearly Gwen was not alone. Wait, did that mean Arthur and Gwen went shopping together?

"Merlin!" This was Morgana, sounding much more enthusiastic than Arthur. Lancelot grinned even though his legs were starting to cramp up: this meant that Gwen and Arthur didn't go shopping together alone!

"What are you doing lazing around here- wait is that Mordred? I thought you two . . ." Arthur trailed off, sounding confused and, if Lancelot wasn't mistaken, scared as well.

"Mordred had a wardrobe emergency," Merlin improvised, "And he called me because . . . we're friends now!"

"Merlin, we have to talk-but not now, just come see me alone." Was it just Lancelot or was Arthur's voice shaking?

He heard a squeak that sounded suspiciously like goodbye, and he peeped over the shelf to see Arthur making a hasty retreat, dragging Gwen and Morgana behind him.

Merlin raised his eyebrows at Lancelot. "See! Try telling Arthur that Mordred's not a murder."

"I would never kill anyone, especially not Arthur! I know how much he means to you." Mordred looked upset.

Lancelot felt rather queasy, and he made his way back to Merlin without saying a word.

Looking far too satisfied for someone who had just messed up teleporting so wildly, Merlin grabbed Lancelot and Mordred and, once again, all three of them disappeared.

Lancelot opened his eyes and stifled a groan. They were still not in the forest. Instead, they seemed to be in a bookshop?

"Merlin! Mordred! Where have you been?"

In unison the blood drained from both of their faces. Lancelot suddenly felt like he was traveling with a pair of vampires.

"N-nowhere?"

"We were beginning to worry you'd finally moved to New Zealand." The speaker was an old woman. Her thinning hair was twisted into a braid the color of cement but she stood tall as an oak.

"Er hello Alice." Modred looked quite unhappy.

"Did you two finally get the apartment you were hoping for?" The old woman, whose name must've been Alice, smiled happily.

"Not yet, we're still working on it." Merlin sent Lancelot a look of utter desperation.

"Sorry," he interjected trying to look apologetic instead of hopelessly confused. "But we've got to go. We're on a time sensitive errand."

"Oh of course," the old woman said. "But stop by soon you two." She gave a last smile and returned to organizing the bookshelves.

Both Merlin and Mordred booked it out of the book store, Lancelot half-jogging to keep up.

By the time he stepped out into the fading sunlight, Mordred was already stepping into an uber.

"What was that about, Merlin?" he asked, but Merlin was lying on the pavement.

"I'm such an idiot. He's going to think that I still like him which I don't. I definitely don't. Ughhh," he moaned into the ground.

"Get up and explain what's going on," Lancelot barked suddenly remembering that they had achieved exactly zero percent of their goal.

"I'm never teleporting again."

Lancelot turned Merlin over with his foot and narrowed his eyes.

"That's where we met, and we used to go there all the time. Ughh," Merlin rolled back over.

Lancelot wrinkled his nose. "Well," he said briskly, "Meet me tomorrow at exactly- and I mean exactly- seven a.m." He turned to leave muttering under his breath.

It only took Merlin 30 seconds to leap up and follow him, and it only took 32 for him to widen his eyes indignantly and yell "What exactly did you call me?"


End file.
